


A Different Type of Sugar

by theblindtorpedo



Category: Fate/Zero, ロード・エルメロイⅡ世の事件簿 - 三田誠 | Lord El-Melloi II Case Files - Sanda Makoto
Genre: Confessions, First Time, M/M, also trigger warning for blood but only melvins usual variety, they dont actually have sex but marked for explicit mention
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-18
Updated: 2019-12-18
Packaged: 2021-02-26 10:07:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,674
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21847921
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theblindtorpedo/pseuds/theblindtorpedo
Summary: Melvin isn't one to look a gift horse in the mouth. He's been biding his time and he's quite certain he deserves some reward for his patience. Especially if that reward bears the name Waver Velvet.
Relationships: Waver Velvet/Melvin Waynez
Comments: 2
Kudos: 42





	A Different Type of Sugar

Waver appeared on Melvin’s doorstep at seven which was unusual for several reasons. Firstly, was the hour: Waver’s schedule consisted of finishing his work late, taking his leave of the Clock Tower around eight to return home for a belated and nutritionally inadequate dinner. Which meant somehow today, Melvin had taken priority over his vital professorial work.

Secondly, the location: Waver rarely visited Melvin’s home. He claimed an intense dislike of the Weins’ display of affluence and the silver and plush that adorned the house. Melvin was quite familiar with Waver’s distaste of the aristocracy. It was a frequent source of complaint always coupled with Waver’s disregard for Melvin’s membership to the party with which the in-name-only Lord held so much contempt. Melvin didn’t mind. He knew if Waver truly disliked him he would not be permitted remain in the Lord’s circle. Certainly, part of that was Melvin’s own efforts to interrupt and maneuver his way into Waver’s life as often as possible, but Melvin had seen Waver shut down others’ same with deft precision. Melvin looked on these commonly female admirers with pity. They would never be able to call Waver their best friend. Nor did they deserve him.

So, Waver stood on Melvin’s doorstep, an omen that somehow today was different.

“Waver-kun!” Melvin threw his arms around the man bundled tight against the winter chill. “Come inside have some tea and sweets! I’ve gotten a new shipment, a gift from Mummy you know she’s off in India and she’s sent back the most delectable treats although they’re a bit much for my stomach. You have to try them for me! How are things at the Clock Tower? I know I haven’t been there in a while. Do you miss me terribly? Of course you do, you must be bored to tears with all those dusty old mages.”

It was not until Waver was divested of his outer clothes and they were seated in Melvin’s private sitting room that the Lord could get a word in edgewise against Melvin’s exuberant chattering. They were angled towards each other, Waver perched in an armchair clutching a full cup of tea and Melvin reclined on sofa twirling his own empty cup between his fingers.

“You seem well.”

“Mmm?”

“You didn’t make your weekly surprise visit to my office.” A defensive sip of his tea followed the statement, but Melvin could read between the lines.

“Were you…. worried about me?”

What’s that? The ringing of a bell of opportunity?

Waver has a constant instinct to care for others running through his veins and Melvin is not above a level of, in his opinion, a small measure of harmless manipulation. Besides, this situation will be to Waver’s benefit even if he does not realize it yet.

Melvin lets his voice lower, adding a tinge of weariness and seriousness. “It is true I have not been well of late.”

He brings his fingers to his lips and stifles a small cough, feigned warning of incoming retching. Most people grew weary after the novelty of the chronically ill Weins heir wore off. Coughing blood was no longer something to be concerned about, but just another one of his antics. They rolled their eyes as if he did it on purpose. Oh, Master Weins here to ruin the carpets again. That sure pissed him off.

Waver was different. As he coughs, he sees Waver tense and tremble almost imperceptibly. Melvin’s heart soars. For every dismissive word the Lord threw his way, for every flagrant abuse of Melvin’s generosity, Waver made up for it with that small evidence of love. Melvin lived for the moment when Waver’s attention was totally turned his way. He knows after a decade he has a foothold in Waver’s heart; he only must find the correct path forward.

He props himself up on his elbow and beckons Waver forward. Waver carefully sets his cup down and rises to approach tentatively and Melvin can still see in him the young boy who skittered everywhere like a newborn fawn. Melvin doesn’t mind the challenge. The Lord is harder to bait than when they were young, but his body and mind are still sparkling with promises of amusement. Melvin can’t wait to see him fall apart, to see him burst with emotion and passion. The ultimate pleasure.  
Melvin pats the cushion beside him, but Waver does not sit.

“Can I help you?” he asks. There is no pretense to the statement. It is refreshingly earnest, but still so formal, so guarded. Waver knows Melvin is up to something.

Melvin breathes out and ever so gently leans forward to press his forehead against Waver’s chest. He makes a sound in the back in his throat. Had there been anyone else present they would perhaps call it a purr.

"I’m tired.”

“Ah, I shouldn't have come. I’ll help you get to bed so then you can sleep.”

“I won’t be able to.”

“I’m sure you will. Perhaps a small incantation could help-” Waver looks thoughtful.

“Are you trying to push me awayyyyy?” Hands come up to steady himself, grasping at Waver’s shirt as he tilts his face upwards without moving away. Their faces are inches from each other now as Waver has also bent down at Melvin’s tugging. Gentle breaths brush against skin and Melvin suddenly feels very hot as if there are pinpricks under his skin. He really hopes he doesn’t throw up right now.

“I’m not trying to push you away,” Waver says gently.

“How silly of me, you couldn’t do that. Not to your best friend. Who else would give you all the funds for your escapades then?”  
Waver’s mouth drops open and his eyebrows knit together in a sudden expression of both surprise and deep offense. 

“It’s all right,” Melvin continues, smiling slyly, “I’m happy to share a little bit of the power it brings. I understand the allure. I know that’s what you want from me.” Waver is huffing in consternation now, his mouth opening and closing like a fish. It’s stupidly cute.

“That’s not-“ he interrupts, but Melvin ignores him and continues:

“I don’t mind if you throw me away in six months, a year, ten days. Your stories have been so amusing and every pound was worth it. So, for now feel free to use me as much as you want to, I don’t mind at all. It’s all I’m good for after all.”  
Suddenly, he is shoved back against the couch. Waver looms above him in all his glory, hair falling in fine silken strands, long neck stretched out like an invitation, and his face, his beautiful face, is open and raw and mouth pursed as if he can barely hold himself back from …. something.

Perfect.

“Don’t be an idiot,” Waver eventually growls from between gritted teeth. Melvin throws back his head in a laugh. Waver still hangs to the vestiges of his reservations, as if he hadn’t been the one to take the first step into this brave new world. Sure, Melvin had set the lure, but Waver didn’t have to bite. Being caught underneath that slender frame was all the confirmation he needed. Melvin met Waver’s eyes with a predatory glint.

“Don’t worry, I’m not.”

He grabs Waver’s cheeks with both his hands and smashes their faces together. Waver’s voice pitches an octave higher as he yelps in surprise which is just enough space for Melvin to plunge his tongue into the other man’s mouth and claim him with the most thorough kiss he’d performed in his life. One leg hooks against Waver’s back, pulling him closer and the taller man falls onto him eliciting a gasp as the breath is knocked out of his chest. Melvin pauses in his quest to bruise Waver’s mouth to whisper against the other man’s ear.

“It’s about time, Waver-kun.”

In one motion he flips them over so Waver is prone full body stretched out on the couch. Melvin straddles the other man’s hips and focuses in on Waver’s shirt, starting to pull at the buttons desperately until a hand tugs at his wrist. Melvin blinks up in surprise and he is glad he did.

Waver is smiling at him. His happiness is writ large from ear to ear and it is so strange and exciting to see that old smile on his new features, but also nostalgic and familiar and just right. A light blush is spread across Waver’s face and the usually tight-laced Lord looks vibrant and alive and Melvin wants to lose himself to this man even more than he already has. 

“How long have you been planning this?”

“Too long. You’re a hard nut to crack.” Melvin grinds his hips down. Neither of them are hard yet, but it still makes Waver gasp and it makes a point. “But I think it’ll be a bit easier now.”

“Hmmm, don’t be so sure.” Now it’s Waver’s hand in his hair and Melvin keens happily into the kiss. Waver doesn’t know how to kiss very well, but he is fervent and eager, and Melvin’s imagination starts to run. Waver in restraints, begging and crying in desperation. Waver gasping into his shoulder as he takes him from behind, lost to his own pleasure. Waver touching himself while Melvin sits in a chair fully clothed and directs the show with a conductor’s aplomb. Waver’s dark hair messy and spread across a pillow, body helpless as Melvin rides his hips like his life depends on it. The thoughts and the kiss combine to make Melvin’s whole-body convulse with satisfaction and lust.

n all the headiness of the moment he doesn’t notice the usual warning pangs. Then the sudden swirl in his gut surges forward and he isn’t moaning into Waver’s lips anymore, instead choking as the blood falls from his mouth into the space between them.

They break apart and Waver gazes down at the glistening red in his hand. The only sound is the heaving of their breaths and the wet drip onto the floor.

“Fuck.”


End file.
